


Every Day's a Gift

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Birthdays, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two monumental birthdays in Sereda's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Grey Warden's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I just wanted to write myself birthday fluff, but then it got sad. There's totally fluff coming, though.

Sereda is woken up by two small bodies climbing into bed and jumping onto her.  It takes her a minute to remember that she’s safe and the small bodies are her twins.  They may only be four years old, but they’re both so full of energy.

“Mama!” Jelah squeals.  She’s the louder of the two, always quick to smile and yell.

“She’s awake,” Amias says softly.

Sereda laughs, running her fingers through their hair.  They both have the sunshine blond hair of their father, which always makes her smile.  

“Where’s Papa?” Sereda asks.  Her husband’s absence is noticeable.  

“It’s a secret,” Amias says seriously.  

“I see, I see,” Sereda says, nodding.  “What should I do?”

They look at each other, and Sereda watches them silently have a conversation.  It makes her happy, to think that they have such a close relationship.  Like her and her brothers when they were young, except without politics to pull them apart, they won’t repeat the mistakes of their ancestors.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, but Jelah is loud,” Amias says.

Jelah pushes him.  “Am not!”

“Hey!  Hands to yourself!” Sereda scolds.

“Sorry,” Jelah says, crossing her arms.

“Since I’m supposed to be asleep, how about I lay back down and you two snuggle up with me?  Maybe I’ll fall back asleep,” Sereda says.  

Jelah is looking at her suspiciously, but Amias has already curled up beside her.

“C’mon,” Amias says insistently.  “For Papa.”

That makes Jelah relent, and Sereda lays back down with a child on either side of her.  It’s rare that they lay with her quietly.  Jelah starts to squirm almost immediately, and Sereda strokes her hair to soothe her.

Sereda loses track of time, just enjoying herself.  She’s vaguely curious about why Zevran’s doing something secret somewhere, but he’ll tell her when he’s ready. 

“I think Mama’s still awake,” Jelah whispers, sitting up a little bit.  

“You’re not helping!” Amias hisses.

“My dear Sereda!” Zevran breaks up the impending fight by strolling into their bedroom.  “I see our beautiful children haven’t woke you up.”

Sereda laughs, sitting up again.  “They’re stealthy like their father.  So, what’s with the secrecy?”

Zevran reaches out a hand, and Sereda takes it, letting him pull her to her feet.  “Mi amor, are you saying that you forgot your own birthday?  Again?”

Jelah jumps onto Sereda’s back before she can reply.  “Happy birthday, Mama!”

“Birthday?” Sereda asks.  

“You always forget,” Zevran says.

“And you always do something over the top and unnecessary,” Sereda says.  

She scoops up Amias, balancing him on her hip.  With a child on her back and one on her hip, Sereda is ready to see whatever it is that Zevran has done for her this year.  

Zevran leads her out through the main room of their house.  It’s one of her favorite rooms anywhere, with trinkets from their adventures decorating it.  Masks from Orlais, small carvings from Antiva, jewelry from Orzammar.  It reminds her of all the places that her and Zevran have been together.

But Zevran doesn’t stop there, leading her out back.  There’s very little land back there because the house is right on the Amaranthine Ocean.  She loves the view and laying in bed with Zevran, listening to the waves hit the shore.  

“Alistair!” Sereda exclaims.  “What are you doing here?”

They don’t get to see each other nearly enough these days.

“I was told that it’s your birthday,” Alistair says.  His eyes narrow.  “Or was Zevran lying?  Again.”

“I would never,” Zevran says.  

“Are you a friend of Mama’s?” Jelah asks.

Jelah slides off Sereda’s back and approaches Alistair, looking up at the large human curiously.  She crosses her arms and looks distinctly unimpressed with what she sees.

Alistair crouches down to Jelah’s eye level, smiling at her.  “Yep!  We traveled together a long time ago.  I was here when you and your brother were born, too.  You’ve both gotten a lot bigger since then.”

“What about Papa?” Jelah asks.

Alistair looks up at Zevran with raised eyebrows.  “I don’t know, Zevran.  Friends?”

“I have long considered you an excellent friend, Alistair,” Zevran says warmly.

“Yeah?  I shouldn’t be surprised,” Alistair says.  He looks up at Sereda and Amias.  “How’s Amias?”

In response, Amias presses his face against Sereda’s shoulder, always uncomfortable around strangers at first.  

“Shy,” Sereda explains, taking a few steps forward.  She rests a hand on Jelah’s shoulder.  “It’s so good to see you, my old friend.”

“You too,” Alistair says.  

“How about we give Mama and Alistair some privacy?” Zevran says.  “I’m sure they have many boring adult things to discuss.  We can find some pretty rocks for Mama’s birthday.”

“Okay!” Jelah says.  “See you later, Alistair!”

“Thank you,” Sereda murmurs to Zevran as she hands him Amias.

“I don’t often set my wife up with other men, but Alistair is an exception,” Zevran says, kissing her cheek.  “We’ll be back shortly.”

Sereda watches them walk down the coastline, laughing and picking up stones.  It’s a grey, overcast morning, which are Sereda’s favorite kind.  

“Your family is beautiful,” Alistair says, sitting down on the ground.

“I know.  They’re incredible,” Sereda says.  “Sometimes I still wake up amazed at what we have.”

They’re silent for a minute, and Sereda hates it.  There’s something about silence between two Grey Wardens that’s so inherently somber.  Especially two old Grey Wardens.

“Do you hear it, yet?” Sereda asks.

She looks away from her family to examine her old friend.  This is why Zevran brought Alistair to her for her birthday, even though he’d never admit it.  The time is growing so short for the both of them.  Soon they’ll be dead.

“No,” Alistair says.  “You?”

“Not yet, but…” Sereda has to pause to swallow around the lump in her throat.  “I can feel the wrongness.  It’s stronger than it was; sometimes it’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Alistair says with a sigh.  “I don’t think I have many years left, Sereda.”

Sereda nods, looking back at where Zevran and their children are walking down the shore.  Zevran has set Amias down, and he’s run ahead of his father, trying to chase a bird of some sort.  

“I’ve talked to Zevran about it, even though he doesn’t really understand.  I don’t want him to be surprised when I have to leave,” Sereda says.  “But how can I tell my children that one day, Mama will have to leave them?  I don’t know if it’s better to know ahead of time or not.  I’m worried that I’ll hear the Calling when they’re so young that they won’t remember me, and all they’ll have is the songs.”

“Zevran would never let that happen,” Alistair says.  “He’d make sure that your kids got to know the real you, even if you weren’t around.”

Sereda looks back to Alistair.  “I know.  But he shouldn’t have to.  I want to see them grow older.  I want to see who they become.  I want to see Zevran with grey hair and crow’s feet and a grandchild.”  

She feels the tears coming, but she still can’t stop them from sliding down her face.  Her kids and her husband will all be able to get on without her, but Ancestors, they shouldn’t have to. 

Alistair wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.  She leans against him and cries into his side because she can feel the wrongness in her reaching out towards the wrongness in him.  Even when they’re comforting each other, the Taint is there, lurking at the edges of their awareness.

“You made Mama cry!” Jelah’s voice is angry, and Sereda is unsurprised when she turns to see her daughter’s hands balled into fists.  

“No, no,” Sereda soothes, wiping her face.  “It’s okay.”

“I’m watching you,” Jelah says, crossing her arms.

“Me too!” Amias chimes in from behind his sister.

“Of course, I finally get you to talk to me and you’re threatening me!”  Alistair laughs and puts his hands up in surrender.  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Zevran brushes his fingers through Sereda’s hair, and Sereda leans into his touch.  “Perhaps some food would lighten everyone’s spirits.”

“Race you!” Jelah yells before dashing inside, anger forgotten.

“I can’t be beat by a four year old,” Alistair grumbles as he gets to his feet and runs after her.

Zevran laughs as he pulls Sereda to her feet.  “She may have finally found her match.” 

Sereda loops her arm around Zevran’s waist, watching as their children and Alistair race around the house.  She can feel Zevran’s laughter shaking through her whole body, and it makes her feel light.  

* * *

“Thank you for my birthday present,” Sereda murmurs.  

Alistair is gone and the children are both in bed.  She’s sitting on their bed, brushing out her hair.  It’s so much longer than she used to keep it, but now that she’s not on the road all the time, she has the time to maintain it.

Zevran likes to watch her brush her hair, out of the corner of his eye as he finishes up a few things before bed.  Sometimes, he’ll even braid it after, just for fun.

“I figured time with Alistair, away from politics, was much better than anything else I could get you,” Zevran says. 

“I’m glad that Amias warmed up to him.  It was cute watching Alistair twirl them both around,” Sereda says.  

“Amias is a good judge of character.  I knew he would like Alistair,” Zevran says.  “Has Alistair had his Calling?”

“Not yet.”  Sereda bows her head.  “But Alistair feels what I do.  Being near him again… the Taint in him reached to the Taint in me, and it was so much stronger than it was years ago.  It felt so wrong.  I doubt we have even five years.”

Zevran comes to sit beside her.  He sets a hand on her back, rubbing gently.  “We’ll have five wonderful years, then.  I will do everything to make those five years the best years of your life.”

Sereda turns to face him.  She takes in his bright shining eyes and the way that he’s trying to remain so upbeat for her.  The thought of her descent into madness and eventual death has to be tearing him apart, but he refuses to put any of that weight on her.  

“Zevran, I know that whether I have one year or five left, they’ll be good years.  The quality of my life isn’t what I’m worried about.  At least not until the very end,” Sereda says, swallowing hard.  “If there’s a cure out there, we could have decades.  I could hold our grandchildren.”

They’ve talked about this before, and they’ve done some research.  Sereda had had plenty of time to do reading towards the end of her pregnancy, and Zevran had helped.  Both of them have sporadically continued the research, but raising two kids led to a more hectic life than either of them had anticipated.  If they had a completely solid lead, they probably would have gone to find the cure already, but as it is all they have the barest whispers of a lead.  

“I thought you wanted to be around for Jelah and Amias,” Zevran says cautiously.  He’s always been more fully in favor of tracking down their whispers than Sereda.  

Sereda runs her fingers through her hair.  “I do.  But are a few certain years better than gambling that for decades?  I want all the time I can have with you and our children.”

“I know,” Zevran says.  “There’s no reason why you have to gamble with  _ all  _ the time you have left.  Taking them to libraries in Antiva and Cumberland and wherever else we have to travel won’t be dangerous, and we always wanted them to see the world.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” Sereda says.

“Of course,” Zevran says.  “I would never suggest otherwise.  Our children are more precious than anything or anyone else.  I would risk almost anything for a cure, but not them.”

Sereda leans against him.  “Maybe you’re right.  Maybe it doesn’t have to be either or.”

Zevran presses his lips against her hair.  “We can talk about this in the morning.  For now, I believe we have spent too much time sad on a day that should be full of celebration.”

“I had such a good day, Zevran.  Don’t worry about that,” Sereda says, tilting her face upwards to smile at Zevran.  “I still don’t know how you taught the kids that song without me finding out beforehand.”

Zevran laughs, shaking his head.  “My assassin skills have applications I never even dreamed of.”

Sereda looks at her bright beautiful husband, the father of her children, and the absolute love of her life.  When they met, neither of them wanted to live, and now look at them.  Life has been so good with him, and Sereda wants more, desperately.

“I know that I’ve said this plenty of times, but fatherhood looks so good on you,” Sereda says.  She’s glad that if she does hear her Calling, their children will still have him.

“Jelah and Amias are easy to love.  Our sweet, beautiful children,” Zevran says tenderly.  

Zevran kisses her, soft and sweet, and she loses herself in him.  They’ve saved each other in so many ways over the years, and Sereda wonders if there’s only so much luck a person can have in one lifetime.  But she has to try.  She owes her husband and her children that much, at least.


	2. A Grandmother's Birthday

Twenty five years later, Sereda wakes up with Zevran’s arms around her, like she has for almost every day for the last twenty years.  Usually he rises earlier than she does, and she turns carefully to avoid waking him up.  

His hair has turned to silver in the intervening years, thinner than it used to be.  The lines on his face are harder to see when he’s asleep like this, but she knows that when she laughs, they’ll be there.  Unsurprisingly, Zevran is as beautiful as the day they met.  It has been so wonderful to watch him grow old.

Bright eyes flash open, and an easy smile graces Zevran’s face.  “Mi amor, I was supposed to wake up early to surprise you for your birthday.”

“This is a good present, too,” Sereda says.  “You’re such a beautiful man.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear Sereda,” Zevran says grandly.  He cups her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.  “Tell me what you want, and I’ll find get it for you.”

“I want our children to visit with our grandchildren more often,” Sereda says.  

“How lucky that they will all be here to celebrate you, then,” Zevran says.

“You are so good to me,” Sereda says, smiling at him.

“There’s still some time before they arrive, you know,” Zevran murmurs.  

“Sixty two years old, and absolutely insatiable,” Sereda says with a laugh.

“We have aged like the finest of wines,” Zevran says.

* * *

“Grandpapa! Grandmama!” Alran yells, hugging them both tightly.  

Their middle grandchild, Alran, is Jelah’s son.  Jelah’s wife chose to leave Orzammar when her family demanded that she abandon her lower caste son.  They met and fell in love.

“It’s good to see you, little one,” Zevran says as they sit on the couch.  

“Where’s the wife?” Sereda asks.  They get along quite well, both having left Orzammar under trying circumstances.

“Busy, unfortunately.  Negotiating with Uncle Bhelen,” Jelah says, swooping in to kiss them both.  “She sends her regrets, regards, and utter disbelief that you could be related to such a nughumper.”

Sereda laughs.  

“How is it that nobody has assassinated your brother yet?” Zevran asks.  “It’s been  _ decades _ .”

“I’m more surprised than anyone,” Sereda says.  “I’m sure people tried.”

“Yeah, Papa, why didn’t you assassinate him?” Jelah asks, picking Alran up.  “I’m sure you could have succeeded.”

“We had many other things to do and I never quite got around to it,” Zevran says with a shrug.  

“It’s also generally bad form to murder your wife’s brother,” Sereda points out.  “Bhelen could have been an exception, though.”

Jelah shakes her head.  “I still don’t believe that you came from that place!”

“They even have a statue of me,” Sereda says.  

“Yes, my Paragon mother,” Jelah says in the tone that means that they’re about to debate dwarven politics.  Again.  

Zevran settles back on the couch, tossing his arm around her shoulders.  He sighs softly, having never been one for Orzammar’s politics beyond a barely repressed desire to kill Bhelen.

“She gets this from you,” Zevran murmurs in Sereda’s ear.

Sereda can do nothing but chuckle in agreement.

* * *

“Amias, you’re  _ late _ ,” Jelah complains when her brother finally arrives, “and you didn’t even bring your better half.”

“The world is ending out there, Jelah,” Amias says.  “She has things to do.”

“The world is always ending.  That’s no reason to make your mother wait to hold her newest grandchild,” Sereda says, getting up and reaching her arms out.  

“Give her the kid, or else she’ll start telling stories,” Jelah mock whispers.

“I like Grandmama’s stories!” Neri chimes in.  Amias’ eldest.  

“I’m partial to them as well,” Zevran says.  “I often play a starring, heroic role, after all.”

“Except the one where you met and Mama knocked you unconscious,” Jelah says dryly.

Sereda waves their banter away, making a beeline for Amias and the small bundle that he’s holding.  “Give me that child, or by the Ancestors-”

She fall silent as Amias hands her little Covia and she returns to the couch and Zevran’s side.  Zevran leans in, cooing softly.  

“I’m a big sister now!” Neri says excitedly, crawling up beside her.  

“It’s a big responsibility,” Sereda says.  “You ready?”

“Yep!” Neri says, nodding.  

“I wanna be a big brother!” Alran says.  

“Maybe soon,” Jelah says, ruffling his hair.  

Sereda strokes Covia’s cheek.  Her granddaughter is so small and helpless.  It’s hard to believe that she was ever so small.  There had been a time when she had been certain that she would never have children, and now she’s holding her grandchild.

When she looks up at Zevran, he’s beaming down at Covia, but he senses her gaze and looks up at her.  They have matching smiles, and Zevran nods slightly.  

“Our third grandchild,” Sereda murmurs softly.  “Can you believe it?”

“Yes.  I have always believed that you could do the impossible,” Zevran says, pressing his lips to her cheek.  “And you always do.”

“It’s so unfair that you can still make me blush.  It’s been over thirty years,” Sereda says.  Thirty had always been kind of the magic number, the number after which she would truly believe that she was cured of the Taint.

“It’s such fun,” Zevran says, wiggling his fingers in front of Covia.  When Covia grabs at a finger, he laughs.  “Good reflexes.”

Sereda catches a whiff of a dirty diaper, and her nose crinkles.  “I think it’s time to see Grandpapa.”

“Handing her off when it gets smelly, hm?” Zevran says, stretching his arms out.  “Some things never do change.”

“Hey, remember that time you tried to assassinate me?” Sereda says as she hands Covia over.  “I think the least you can do is change a diaper.”

Zevran laughs as he pokes Covia’s little belly.  “Thirty years of love and devotion and she can’t let one little assassination attempt go.”

“We know, Papa,” Amias says.  He slips into a fake yet impeccable Antivan accent and pitches his voice slightly higher, like Zevran’s.  “My head still rings from the whack on the head she gave me, is that not punishment enough?  I wasn’t even  _ trying _ that hard to kill her!”

“Are you implying that I repeat myself?” Zevran says, feigning outrage as Sereda and Jelah both break out in fits of hysterical laughter.  

“Just a little,” Amias says in his normal voice, taking Covia to change her diaper.  “But we still love you, Papa.”

“Outrageous,” Zevran mutters.

Sereda kisses his cheek.  “You’re cute.”

* * *

“Another birthday,” Zevran says with great satisfaction that night. 

They’re relaxing outside while Jelah and Amias try to convince their children to sleep inside.  That’s one part of raising children that Sereda doesn’t miss.  

It’s much easier to sit here with Zevran, under the stars.  His body is warm against her side, in sharp contrast to the cool water lapping at her ankles.  She takes his hand in hers because she loves how his fingers feel laced through hers.  This is paradise.  

“You’ve turned me into an old woman, Zevran.  An old woman with grandchildren and creaky bones and night vision almost as bad as a human’s,” Sereda says.

“Good,” Zevran says.  “Thedas is much better with you in it.  More importantly, I’m much happier and so are our children and grandchildren.”

“Thank you for nudging me on to find the cure,” Sereda says softly.  “Thank you for giving me my life.”

“You did most of the heavy lifting,” Zevran says before his voice turns serious.  “Besides, I owed you a life.  You gave me mine, after all.”

“You did most of the heavy lifting,” Sereda points out.  

Zevran squeezes her hand.  “And now we are both old and grey and still incredibly attractive.”

Sereda lets her eyes droop partially closed as she rests her head on Zevran’s shoulder.  The sky and the sea stretch out endlessly, and she still finds it overwhelming sometimes.  Decades on the surface and it’s still incredible.

“They’re finally asleep,” Amias says, coming up behind them.

“We were never that much of a handful,” Jelah chimes in as they sit on the ground in front of them with twin splashes.

Both Sereda and Zevran laugh hard.  

“Mi amor, our daughter has forgotten her entire childhood!” Zevran exclaims.  “A childhood that involved an awful lot of hiding at bedtime.”

“Getting you both into bed is probably the most difficult thing we ever did,” Sereda says.  “Archdemons are nothing compared to two mischievous little children.”

“Mhm, tell us  _ again _ about stopping the big bad Blight and fighting darkspawn by Papa’s side,” Jelah says, leaning her back against the swing.

There was a time when Jelah’s irreverence towards all those who fought and died to fight the Blight had upset Sereda.  As much as she enjoyed travelling with her companions to end the Blight, it had still been a horrible time for so many people.  Growing up in Orzammar had meant that she had been viscerally aware of the darkspawn threat, and it had baffled her that her children hadn’t been nearly as concerned about them as her.

But then she had realized that that’s why she and Zevran had fought to end the Blight.  So surfacers didn’t have to fear the darkspawn, so their children wouldn’t grow up in a world ravaged like their ancestral thaigs have been.  Her children can laugh at the thought of darkspawn, and that isn’t something that she ever thought possible.

“First of all,” Sereda says, carding her free hand through her daughter’s hair, “technically, Papa was fighting at my side.  Secondly, if I wanna reminisce on my birthday, I will.  Thirdly, my ramblings are a veritable history lesson.”

“She has a point,” Amias says.  “Mama and Papa did save the world.  She’s the Hero of Ferelden and a Paragon!”

“Don’t forget Champion of Redcliffe and Princess,” Zevran chimes in gleefully.  “And Warden-Commander of Ferelden.  Plus the Grey Wardens  _ and _ the Ferelden monarchy gave her a special commendation for service after curing the Calling.”

“Titles are just words,” Sereda and Jelah say in unison.  It had been a common refrain as Jelah and Amias learned more about who their parents are.

“And Alistair just liked the chance to drag us out to Denerim and embarrass me,” Sereda says. 

“You did like it when the Crows started calling you the Shadow’s Mistress,” Zevran says.

“That was an exception,” Sereda says.  

“Tell us about your time together in Antiva again,” Amias says dreamily.  

He always did like their stories the most.  Sometimes Sereda worries that he’ll start digging into what really happened after they’ve both died.  Not that Sereda and Zevran ever lied, exactly, but there were certainly details that they didn’t want to tell their children.  Rinna, having to kill Arl Eamon’s son, the Dark Ritual, the sheer depth of the hopelessness they both felt when they met.  She hopes he understands why they kept these things from them, should he ever uncover the truth.

“Zevran should tell the first part because he did an awful lot of the work while I was still in Ferelden.  Plus, I like the sound of his voice,” Sereda says.

Sereda snuggles against Zevran’s chest, pleased as Zevran wraps his arm around her.  The position means that she can feel it when Zevran chuckles and starts to tell them the dramatic and slightly edited tale of his first year in Antiva as a free man.  His fingers stroke through her hair in rhythm to the waves crashing to shore.  

The four of them stay up late, swapping stories and poking fun at each other.  Getting to spend time with her family is so precious these days.  As proud as she is of the adults that they’ve become, Sereda wishes that their lives didn’t take them quite so far away so often.

* * *

“Twenty five years ago, you sat in that exact spot and brushed out your hair before deciding to cure the Calling,” Zevran says fondly.

“It was red, then, not grey,” Sereda says as she runs the brush through her hair.  

“Grey has always been an excellent color on you,” Zevran says.  

“I know,” Sereda says.  “I never thought I'd take to it in my hair, though.”

“I was instantly taken,” Zevran says. 

“You're  _ always  _ instantly taken,” Sereda says.  

She reaches out to catch his arm as he goes by, pulling him close as she sets her brush down.  He smiles that same easy smile that helped convince her to spare his life all those years ago.  

“True,” Zevran admits.  “But to be fair, you are endlessly enchanting.”

“You're not so bad yourself,” Sereda says. 

“Sereda!” Zevran says, sounding scandalized.  “I have only become more handsome in my old age.”

Sereda laughs, stroking his cheek with a wrinkly hand.  

“Yes, you have.  And even more kind and cunning and loving as the years have passed- which I had thought utterly impossible,” Sereda says tenderly.  

She's gratified by the soft pink blush that spreads over his cheeks and ears at her words.

“Don't forget about my charm,” Zevran says.  

“Could I ever?” Sereda asks.  “I've been charmed by you for almost forty years now, and I've loved every minute of it.”

“Growing old with you has been a great pleasure,” Zevran says.  “While I would have treasured our time together no matter how short, I’m glad we’ve had long lives together.”

“I was just thinking the same thing this morning,” Sereda says.

The smile on his face matches hers as his gaze sweeps over her face.  He always looks at her with such love.  Her life has been full of more unexpected things than she can count, but since getting to know each other, their love has been constant and the greatest gift she could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is the part that I really wanted to write on my birthday tbh. So fluffy and self indulgent.


End file.
